Lady in Red
by LILMISSS
Summary: Disney's Cinderella was unhappy, but everyone had their happy endings. This Cinderella decided to kill her mother and sisters, influence the Prince into doing stupid stuff, and escape off with a smoking hot Ferrari. Rated for murder.


There was something about the girl, the Prince thought idly to himself, that made her stick out like a deep red rose among a sea of mundane white nameless flowers. Her deep red dress twirled about, billowing about. The Prince caught a glimpse of her heels - a mystifying red, much like her dress. Her long gloves that matched her complexion - a blushing peach - enclosed her slender arms delicately. The Prince couldn't be any more enamoured, captivated, enthralled by the beauty that entered the great halls of the castle that once held all his ancestors.

Slowly he advanced his way through the sea of lovely ladies, clamouring for his attention. Only the maiden in red seemed unperturbed by his growing presence; she was more immersed in the music than she was in his charming looks.

Prince Ashton was the almost stereotypical prince. Grace, charm, a flawless appearance; things a prince should have. The man was smart; intelligence, sensitivity and wit beyond his years. It was something that none of his other dim-witted counterparts in other kingdoms possessed.

He sensed something peculiar about how eeriely calm the maiden was, and when she suddenly swerved out of his grasp, towards two rather sullen maidens, he simply had a change of tactic. Calmly he strode towards the nearest lady and asked for a dance. He slowly moved about, body falling in tune with the soft orchestra music, but his eyes were on the lady in red.

* * *

Cinderella smiled at her half-sisters, resisting the urge to plunge two daggers into their overgrown chests. It'd ruin her perfect plan anyway. She wasn't exactly planning to do it during a royal ball, but then again, considering what she had just witnessed an hour ago, anything seemed remotely possible.

She met her fairy godmother today. It was like a belated birthday gift; to be able to carry out her morbid fantasy earlier than ever.

The fairy godmother was surprisingly unkind. "Here's a weapon, and there's your Ferrari. I know it'll be totally stupid to go there in a white dress, with a lousy snail of a carriage waiting for you when you're planning a bloody murder. You _do_ have your plan worked out pretty good, so I'm just making sure you don't stick out like Osama with a bunch of teenage girls," her fairy godmother, Ella, had reasoned rationally, "and at least it'll be hard for you to get caught. I swear, I'm a fairy godmother destined for the gallows with so much evil. Don't waste my death. And right now, you're wasting my freedom. Get the hell out of here before I call the cops or something."

Cinderella had grinned at this. "I thought you knew I once killed a cop."

"Yeah, well, maybe I _should_. I hate those gun-toting bastards."

Cinderella shook that out of her head. "Hello, girls," she whispered, giving them the sweetest smile she could possibly offer. It was the least she could give to them.

The sisters pushed past her, aghast at her presence. They stumbled towards the balcony; eyes wide, hearts thumping, brains running into overdrive. Anasthesia was the first to break their panicked silence. "What should we do?" she hissed to her sister.

The two women were almost like the female versions of Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee. They both had this scornful look forever carved on their face, like scars in the war of which sperm came first. Anasthesia had flat red hair stiffly shaped to resemble some form of pastry, though Cinderella was sure that it wasn't the intended effect. Her sister, Drizella, had dull brown hair that had split ends sticking out of unusual places. Her hair was tied up with a lime green ribbon, but Cinderella felt that even the atrocious green ribbon could not hide the state of her hair.

The maiden smiled to herself. She was giving them the worst possible treatment – death by midnight, and dying when they looked their most hideous. She pondered the thought of two covered coffins, but she shrugged. Cinderella _did_, after all, kill their _beloved _mother. With no father to speak of, who else would bother about whether or not they even got a proper buri-

"Excuse me," someone with a deep, gentle voice halted her train of thoughts. It was as though that train just crashed straight into a wall of bricks and thick cement, cluttering up her mind. Cinderella scowled, her face hidden from his view.

Perhaps this was what love was, a little voice suggested, but Cinderella murdered that thought in her mind. She spun around, greeting the Prince himself. "Good evening, sir," she greeted in an even voice, "how may I assist you?"

_Assisted killing_, she instinctively thought, but she shrugged that away. The Prince was not her target; it was those _scumbags_, with her father's blood running through their thick veins. She was willing to spill them all; her father would be more than pleased to see that his blood no longer fed life into two despicable creatures, especially the creatures who were the spawn of the very woman who murdered him in front of his three-year-old daughter.

Prince Ashton said nothing. He saw a flicker of hatred flash across her face, like lightning that served only to strike fear into hearts. Her emerald eyes burned with a vigour so strong, he was immediately taken aback.

Cinderella narrowed her eyes. "Well?" she asked, but this time, the Prince heard an iota of impatience in her voice. There was innocence in her voice, but it veiled something so much more.

"May I have this dance with you?" he finally asked, ignoring the angered glint in her eyes.

Behind him, the two sisters exchanged frightful glances. Then that fright turned into anger, envy, jealousy, and soon, superiority. "If she doesn't want to dance with you," started Drizella, "let _me_dance with you!"

Prince Ashton glanced at Cinderella, expecting some form of jealousy. Instead, she simply looked amused and...happy? "Of course, dear Drizella. I'd like to talk to Anasthesia for a while, if you don't mind my absence, sire."

Anasthesia looked like she swallowed a human eyeball. Now the Prince was clearly confused. But he decided to ignore it; perhaps she had done something wrong to insult the maiden in red. "Very well," he agreed, and the lady gave him a smile. For some reason, it sent violent shudders down his spine. He felt fear, but yet this strange girl made him want to find out so much more about the enigmatic female.

As the Prince walked away, with Drizella gripping his hand like it was the only way she could live, he tilted his head up, catching his father overlooking the crowd from the highest gallery the castle had. He was sharp enough to notice a ghost of a frown etched in the lines of his father's crinkled face.

* * *

The King was old and weary of his son's stubbornness. He shook his head at his current dance partner; a girl in rags that passed off as a dress because of the sharp green that stabbed cruelly at eyes. He was already upset enough that his son had refused to marry an average princess simply because, as the Prince had bluntly put, "they were pretty...stupid." But now he had invited all of the maidens in his kingdom for his picking. He had wasted his men, who ran around getting sexually harassed by women hoping that one of them would break and let the girl in a secret deal involving marriage.

He rubbed at his temples. Ashton...he was a strange child, that boy. Smart, deceptive, manipulative, and never once listened to the King. Everything his own way.

* * *

Prince Ashton guided the excited girl to the dance floor, and he simply turned when it was necessary. His thoughts were still fixated on the strange lady in red. He turned to the balcony; the two of them were still there, chatting.

* * *

Cinderella had never felt more relaxed. The tense posture of her sister before her simply amused her further. Anasthesia gripped the railing so tightly, her knuckles were turning to a pale, sickly white. The black-haired female simply grinned. "So, you _do _admit that your mother killed Father?"

"S-She's your mother too, you know. And yes, I do. But that was at least 20 years ago; what will change?" Anasthesia fought back, but there was something in Cinderella's calm, almost murderous gaze that made her self-victory shortlived.

It was.

"Oh, my, dear Anasthesia, things _have _changed," Cinderella replied smoothly, in her silky, deadly voice. Anasthesia gasped at how frightful her voice sounded; completely unlike the pleas for help whenever Cinderella had too little food to eat, too many plates to wash and carry, too many chores...

"W-What?"

"Your mother, that is. She _was _a good mother...only to _you_." Cinderella hoped that her cell-sized brain could absorb the grave fact, and she couldn't help but laugh as she saw Anasthesia's face pale. The clumsy female widened her eyes, stumbled backwards. Her legs started to shudder.

"H-Huh...?" Anasthesia whispered. That wasn't possible. No. It wasn-

"I killed her," Cinderella stated, "_duh_. And I guess..."

She pulled out her silk glove delicately. A sleek knife was strapped to her arm by a single gold ribbon. Cinderella plucked it out with her free hand, and then with a smile she neared Anasthesia. The horrified maiden scrambled to her feet and ran, but Cinderella had thrust the knife at her leg, causing the girl to collapse.

Anasthesia was hidden from view. Cinderella slowly glided towards her, frowning. "You got my knife dirty," she mused aloud.

"I-I...!" Tears were starting to stream from her eyes. She cried out in pain as Cinderella deftly plucked out the knife from her leg. Blood gushed out. Cinderella didn't seem to mind the gruesome scene. She cleaned her knife with her dress, and much to Anasthesia's horror, the blood seemed to blend in with the dark colour of her dress.

Cinderella sighed. "I was planning to kill you with this. Shall I end this?"

"...No..." Anasthesia whimpered. More tears were falling now; it burned the gash on her leg but she didn't care anymore.

"So...'no' is your last word? Funny, I thought this would be more..." Cinderella tried to think of a word, and then she grinned as she whispered the last word into Anasthesia's ear, "...entertaining."

With a swift flick of the arm, she thrust the knife into Anasthesia's thick flesh, right through her heart. Anasthesia gurgled a little, blood spewing out of her mouth, before life ebbed out of her body.

Cinderella took out the knife and wiped it clean first before looking at what used to be her half-sister. Then, she kicked the body. "You kicked me too many times; be happy I kicked you once," Cinderella mumbled before she turned around.

The Prince was staring right at her.

Cinderella scoffed and tugged at her blood-stained glove. "Sorry you had to see that," she apologised. "I planned it to be hidden from view for a reason, you know."

Prince Ashton was baffled, but before his jaw dropped he composed himself and spoke. "How...did you stab her so _fast_?"

Cinderella was stunned for a moment, but quickly recovered. "Years of abuse from this..." she nudged Anasthesia's body, "her sister just now and their mum. It takes time to be able to not only dodge, but catch whatever kitchenware they throw at you."

"And time to plot how to kill them?"

The girl shrugged as she stepped towards him. Her dagger was at her side, and she realized this. Slowly, she strapped the knife back on her arm, then slipped on a fresh pair of gloves. They were a black pair of satin gloves, the Prince noticed with a surge of admiration for the brave, charmingly sexy assassin. "Sorry about that; I only have plans for one other person, and I'm not exactly keen on murdering the Prince of the kingdom. Um, if you're going to arrest me..."

The Prince stole a glance at the ballroom. The people were still dancing to their hearts' content. They seemed happy and oblivious enough. He turned back to her. "I'm not."

Cinderella heaved a sigh of relief and walked towards him. "Thank goodness. I thought I was screwed there, you know!" She paused for a moment. "Wait. You _are _going to let me kill that other bitch, right? Cause if you're not..." and she rolled down her glove, her knife glinting.

The Prince was amused. "You're...threatening me," he stated, looking utterly bemused. "When...I have a sword." His fingers traced the hilt of his sword.

Cinderella scoffed. "I can throw mine at you."

"I can decapitate you," the Prince retorted.

She seemed to consider this. "Ugh, fine, I'll risk my head and go along with my plan while the Prince of the freaking _kingdom _follows me." With that, Cinderella floated back into the ballroom, in search of her next victim.

"Hey! Wait!" he shouted at the disappearing flash of red, but she quickly blended into the sea of twirling pastry-like dresses and gowns.

He heard a noise and spun to face her victim, making a gross gurgling sound. Blood had seeped out of her wound, soaking what used to be a dark pink dress with frills. He could make out a deep gash in her chest, where a heart once pounded, breathing life into the girl. Now a hole was in its place, and all the _blood_...

"Prince Ashton?" A shocked voice squeaked. "Is that...a _body_?"

The Prince turned around, to see a very pale guard of his. The man struggled to keep himself from crying out at the gruesome sight. "I'll go inform the other guards right away! You may be next, sire!" he squeaked out in horror. He grabbed at the taller Prince frantically.

"Um, it's alright...I have a sword. I've been training under my father for...years," Prince Ashton tried to console the man, but fear had already stabbed the poor guard in so many places, so many times, that the guard was shaking uncontrollably.

"I-I-I will protect you, sire! I-I'll go inform the others! I k-know you surpassed and nearly killed your father the King at the age of 10, b-but I _h-h-have _to tell them! It's for your own good!" the guard replied, before hurrying off as quickly as his jelly legs could fling him to.

So much for helping the assassin in distress, the Prince thought to himself. He sauntered back into the ballroom, in search of the murderer in red that he was getting increasingly enchanted by.

* * *

Cinderella spotted the Prince approach, and she took to a quicker pace towards the punch bowl. When she sensed that he was within hearing range, she spoke, "I've always wanted a dog but I never expected a prince. Wow, my luck is getting better by the minute."

"The guard found her."

She whipped around, narrowing her eyes. "I thought if no one found it, I'd be able to throw the bodies off the tower, but..."

Cinderella once again hurried off into the crowd, in search of her final victim. She left the Prince trailing behind, looking dazed from her nonchalance towards throwing bodies off castle towers.

She found Drizella with a man, chatting casually, though Cinderella could tell that Drizella was just desperate for someone to notice her with the opposite gender so she'd look good. She touched Drizella's elbow lightly and the latter jumped in shock.

"Drizella, I need to talk to you," Cinderella urged, the impatience in her tone evident.

Drizella glared at her and grabbed the man's arm, in a show of so-called affection. "Sorry, Cinderella, can't you see I'm _b_usy?"

Before Drizella could start snogging him, Cinderella yanked her aside forcefully. "It's about your _sister_, you!" she snapped. "She's _dead_!"

This made Drizella's face drain of colour. Her dark red cheeks turned into a sheet of white. "W-What? How?"

Cinderella realised that she had to act hysterical. It _was_ a murder, after all; she had to act natural. She felt no guilt, but she had to delude Drizella into thinking that someone else in the hallway did it.

"I-I don't know!" she cried out, but it sounded painfully unnatural. "There was a stab wound in her chest; oh poor Anasthesia! She looked splendid today and she had to die..."

Cinderella felt sick and wanted to throw up over what she had just said, but in the very least she looked genuinely sick instead of genuinely happy over her death.

"Oh, no!" It suddenly struck Cinderella how perfectly stupid Drizella was. "But, what will Mother say? I always had a grudge against her! Maybe she'd frame me!"

"Well then, we'd best stay calm and leave quietly. Maybe the murderer is after you, too," she added as an afterthought.

Drizella nodded furiously and scanned the room cautiously. Large blobs of perspiration started to form on her too-large forehead. "B-But where?"

Cinderella grinned inwardly. Murdering someone was one thing, but now she was giving Cinderella the opportunity to choose the scene?

"Come here, I'll show you," she whispered sweetly, and Drizella stupidly followed. Cinderella marvelled at how, minutes earlier, Drizella cowered in fear over her unexpected presence, and now she had the girl at her heels, supposedly running away from a murderer who killed her sister. Naturally, Drizella's brain lacked basic thinking skills to realise she was running into the arms of the murderer...and even letting said murderer choose and bring her to any secluded spot to die.

God, was she stupid. It would do the world good to be rid of another brainless scum.

Cinderella was walking along the castle, looking for the best place to kill, until she spotted her Ferrari, glinting from a distance. The carpark was spacious, and secluded. Not a single lamppost stood in the vast open space. Since the castle usually used horses to get around, the carpark was awash with thick, towering grass that reached up to one's knees.

Cinderella stepped closer and stepped on the patch of grass. Now that she wasn't in a rush (besides, her victim was just around the corner, or rather, just behind her) she started to have a good look around the place. The great castle walls loomed in front of them, shielding them from any unfortunate onlooker. The grass was wet and damp from the rain, and the muddied water started to seep into her red heels, between her toes.

The ebony-haired lady just stood there, in the midst of grass, with the bright red Ferrari standing juxtaposed to a bunch of other run-down cars and the emerald grass. She let the atmosphere soak in. It'd be the last time she'd set foot into the place.

"So, what are you waiting for? _Get me out of here_!" Drizella snapped, shivering from the cold breeze. Even though Cinderella was in a sleeveless dress, with her cleavage showing through the deep V cut at the front, she didn't feel cold at all. Hot blood was racing through her body, like adrenaline.

Cinderella turned around, her eyes taking on a steely grey. She had always been complimented by women about how strange and curious her grey eyes looked, but the witch of the house simply spat on her and screamed, "Just like your no-good bastard of a father!"

* * *

_"The one that you murdered?" Cinderella had retorted, back when she was 16._

_"Of course," was her cold reply._

_As her eyes met Drizella's pus green pupils, she remembered once when she was 13, she had adopted a little male kitten. He had dark grey bristles for fur, with knots, dirt particles and everything small imaginable twisted in them. After coaxing the kitten into following her, Cinderella had combed out every little inch of his fur. She named him after her father._

_He died, with bicycle tracks across his small body, and blood seeping out of his mutilated face. "I kicked its face," Anasthesia had announced._

_"And I ran over it!" Drizella offered._

* * *

Cinderella clenched her fists. She glided over to Drizella. "Your fate has been sealed," she assured Drizella. "Just keep watch while I get something from the car."

Drizella was unsure of this, because she had done nothing wrong and there was no need for a lookout. "You sure?"

"Yeah. I mean, the murderer may run after us, right?" Cinderella replied coolly, as she smirked. This was truly unbelievable; her stupidity astounded Cinderella.

"True..." Drizella responded, content with her answer. She spun away from Cinderella, her neon green dress puffing up like a hot air balloon.

Cinderella rolled her eyes, and then set to work. She entered her Ferrari and checked the time. It was ten, which meant that she could speed off and possibly reach a town by the time it struck midnight. And from there, she could easily procure a horse. And even money, if she required them. She could start a shop in a new town, with a new name and everything.

Finally. A normal life.

She started the engine. The car hummed into life, as though the gods had literally breathed life into the Ferrari. The dashboard lit up, with the pointers flicking back and forth, like they were stretching and ready to go. The air-conditioning blasted cool air into Cinderella's perfect face. She wiped off the mascara and make-up, and now, even in the dim light, her deep set eyebags were evident. Her cheeks were scarred and tainted with dirt and wrinkles no young woman should possess. They were a mark of what she had been through – the pain, the suffering, the torture.

And now, it was their turn to suffer, in the most gruesome ways possible. Her so-called mother, drowned and boiled naked in steaming hot water, just like how she almost tried to kill Cinderella, duking her head in repeatedly.

Her so-called sister, Anasthesia, died looking ugly – Cinderella had planned for all their make-up to go wrong. Died from a stab wound with a kick to reinforce it – reminded Cinderella of how she was tortured with needle-sharp pencils Cinderella had no choice but to sharpen, all to avoid a scolding and a lecture of how disgusting and ugly she was.

And now...Drizella. Death by the same way she had killed Cinderella's only companion, and death trusting Cinderella with her life, just like how Cinderella thought Drizella was only trying to help, but was actually just building up all the small sufferings she had to go through. Helping out with laundry, packing up...every little thing she did for Cinderella had been recorded down by the mother of witches, angered by the fact that Cinderella could actually _allow _for _her _princess Drizella to do _Cinderella's_ work.

All that...just to spite her.

A huge gash was testament to that, one that ran down Cinderella's back. It was a lot of money to patch her up, and the family forced Cinderella to the streets, blood seeping through her pale white, overwashed shirt and staining the sidewalks, as the girl begged for money to stitch up her back. She almost didn't make it. She wasn't sure why she was alive now. The memories had just disappeared, slashed up and stowed away somewhere.

"Goodbye," Cinderella whispered, barely audible, as she slammed her heel on the accelerator. The car rushed forward, like lightning – poised to kill.

Drizella turned around and screamed; Cinderella likened her to a fat, oversized, good-for-nothing deer in the headlights, frozen to the spot. This made Cinderella crush the pedal harder.

The bumper made contact with Drizella's body, hard cold metal slamming against the weak frame. Cinderella heard Drizella's ribs crack. The impact threw the body up to the window, and Drizella's back rammed against the window. It was too weak to crack it, but strong enough to kill her effectively. The body rolled back down on the ground, blood gurgling out.

Cinderella checked for the body in the mirror, and then she reversed, crushing Drizella's head and skull with the weight of the entire car. Her horrified face was crushed, and her eyeballs were no longer there – just a pool of blood within the remains of the skull.

She reversed again, and heard the sickening crack of her entire ribcage. Cinderella fervently hoped her heart had been punctured dry by the sharp edges of the bones beneath the wheel.

When she was finally satisfied with the destroyed doll that once held a monster, Cinderella drove off, switching off her headlights.

She drove past the main castle, and watched as the panicked guards ran back up the stairs, hearing the news of a dead body in the castle grounds. Cinderella smiled. What would the patrons think? "Oh dear, poor girl; dying ugly." She hoped they had the same thoughts as her.

Just before she could drive out of the main gate and into the welcoming arms of freedom, she noticed a figure dart out into her path. Sighing, she halted the car, and much to her surprise, the figure ran to the car, threw open the door and leapt into the seat.

It was the Prince.

"What the _hell _are you doing here?" she snapped angrily.

"I'm running away too," the Prince replied calmly, grinning at her as though she was just a little girl who knew nothing of the world and not a cold-blooded murderer who ran over a body to exact revenge.

"You have nothing to run away from," she spat back, hitting him on the shoulder, "because you're a freaking _prince_, for g-"

"I stabbed the King after he tried to force me into marriage and started to look for you. I figured you'd escape through the main gate anyway, so I stayed outside the castle grounds, by the gates to wait." The Prince ran his hand through his dirty blonde hair. "I'm not very sure if he's dead or not..."

Cinderella raised an eyebrow. "Where did you stab him?"

She gasped softly when the Prince traced his finger along her neck, resting on her collarbone. "Here, I believe."

"I think he'll survive," she dismissed hastily, shoving his hand away. The Prince laughed.

"Well, if you land the knife a few inches nearer..." he was about to pinpoint the location on Cinderella's body, but she smacked his hand away.

"So, you're set on following me?" she asked.

The Prince assumed a look of seriousness. His dark black eyes glinted back at her. "Positive."

Cinderella shrugged and nodded. "Okay then. Say goodbye to your life, then."

"My life has just started, trust me," the Prince shot back, grinning. "I haven't seen the world. Never stepped out on castle ground."

Cinderella smiled, for the first time. A huge burden had been carried off and thrown into the depths of the universe by Hercules himself, it seemed. "Then in the morning, I'll teach you. We'll learn about every inch of this world together."

Before she could drive off for good, the Prince stated, "I never knew your name."

Cinderella was about to reply when she stopped herself. She breathed in, and said her name, as natural as she could ever feel and be, "Charis."

Let the new life begin.

* * *

**This is the unedited version.**


End file.
